


Stays a Secret Between Me and Me

by BlackEyedGirl



Category: The Unusuals
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Other, POV Female Character, Partnership, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-06
Updated: 2012-03-06
Packaged: 2017-11-01 14:09:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackEyedGirl/pseuds/BlackEyedGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Casey isn't jealous of Beaumont, and she doesn't want to date Walsh. She still thinks the sex would probably have been fun. [No infidelity, no pining, no angst]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stays a Secret Between Me and Me

Casey still doesn’t quite get Walsh’s thing with secrets. He likes people that have them, thinks they make you a more rounded human being, but he doesn’t actually give her any opportunity to keep them. He’s too good at figuring things out. And honestly, right hand up to God or whatever, if she had to swear to it Casey thinks it’s probably sixty-forty that if she told him this one, he wouldn’t be surprised. She could go right up to him and say, ‘you know when I found out about you and Beaumont, a part of me was just a little bit bummed that it meant you and me were never going to be able to have a fumbling drunken one-night-stand?’ Walsh would probably just raise one eyebrow and nod at her. Casey doesn’t know how he does it. It’s frustrating, is what it is, and she’s had just about enough of frustrating today. That is really more Davis’s fault than Walsh’s, but thinking about _that_ is not going to help her right now. 

They got done at one a.m. after about a week of overtime, went for a quick drink at the Apolo - the paperwork’s definitely waiting until tomorrow – and Casey got back to an empty apartment still wound up tight. She’s tried a shower and a mug of grainy hot cocoa, and so now she’s just left with the vibrator in her bedside table. (Which is not a secret, apparently). She probably should have gone with that first. It’s not just a ridiculous male pick-up line - sometimes a good orgasm really _is_ the best way to unwind after a long day. Which gets her to Davis, and a fight that’s going to take at least another few days to blow over. And that in turn gets her to Beaumont and Walsh, most definitely not fighting, if the looks they were throwing each other come one-thirty this morning were any indication. Casey would feel a little bad about watching them, if it wasn’t for the way Beaumont had slung her arm companionably over Casey’s shoulder at the bar and grinned. “I need a witness. We can agree that my boyfriend has a great ass, right?”

Casey had looked at him across the place and considered this for a moment. “Agreed, sure.”

“And he was pretty hot throwing himself through the door tonight, getting the perp down.”

“Okay?”

“And so if we’re agreed on all that,” Beaumont raised her voice, “and he knows that we’re talking about him right now, why do you suppose God didn’t also grant him the good sense to have taken me home already?”

Casey tried not to smile. “I really couldn’t say.”

“Exactly.” Beaumont and Walsh had left pretty soon after that.

It’s not that Casey is jealous of Beaumont, or that she’s ever seriously thought about Walsh that way. He’s her _partner_ and Casey knows too many of his bad habits to ever think about him romantically. She’s tried his experimental cookery, for one thing. But before Beaumont, there was always a possibility that one night the two of them might get drunk and stupid in the diner after work, and Casey is just a little curious to know what that would go like. It seems like it might have been fun.

Casey hasn’t ever slept with anyone she works with. She’s certainly never slept with a partner. And mostly this is because she has always been a little over-cautious about her own reputation (she does know her own hang-ups) and she’d rather be known as an ice-queen than the precinct’s own ATM. Cops gossip. Walsh is the first guy she’s worked with where she knows that it wouldn’t matter. If they had one good night together, he wouldn’t ever be an asshole about it. They would have a great time, she would go back to her place in the morning, and it wouldn’t make any difference at all to how they work as partners. 

Experimentally, Casey slides her fingers down her body. She could really use some no-consequence fun right now. And it _would_ be fun. This is the sort of thing she can tell about him. Her eyes drift closed.

Walsh wouldn’t think she emasculated him. Walsh’s version of taking care of her is normally limited to checking that she’s not going to throw up again after shooting someone, and tossing a jacket at her when he thinks she might be cold. She can deal with that. He bosses her around for a living and Casey’s willing to bet that in bed he’s probably toppy as hell unchecked but she wouldn’t mind fighting with him a little over that. She’s also willing to bet that if it came down to it, if she turned him over in the bed and pinned his wrists down, he’d just smirk and roll his hips up to meet her. He seems flexible that way. 

Casey flicks the button and bears down a little harder. She reaches one hand above her head and clenches it in the pillow.

He’s hot, of course. And he’s seen her naked (consequences of a jewellery heist gone wrong which honestly would not have happened anywhere else but the Second) and she’s seen him naked (she has a key to the diner and he’s not shy about getting dressed en route to meet her out front). So at least there wouldn’t be any awkwardness there. 

Plus they know each other. Which would occasionally be a downside in the early stages of a romance, but it would be nice, just for once, to fuck someone without having to wonder if they thought she was being too pushy or too confident or too much of a cop. It doesn’t ever stop her – if they don’t like it, they can go find someone else to screw – but Walsh is about the only guy where she knows for sure it wouldn’t be a problem. If she laughed during, or left teeth-marks in his shoulder, he would know it meant she was having fun too. He would come up and meet her. And afterwards he would kiss the marks he made and hold her just tight enough to let her know that she could stay the night if she wanted but she didn’t have to. She would probably stay over but either way they would both have work in the morning.

None of this is important, because Walsh is dating Beaumont, who is one of the best people Casey knows, and one of the best cops besides. Even if she wasn’t, Casey loves Walsh, and he has shadowed eyes where there are sometimes secrets of his own, but he doesn’t seem so sad when he’s around Beaumont. 

Walsh does have a great ass, his smile does go slanted when Casey surprises him, and she’s still not sad that he’s off-limits, because he’s happy now and Casey doesn’t actually want to date him. But she does look sometimes, because why not? She still thinks it could have been nice to roll into bed with him once, wake up in a strange bed and not think about anything more troubling than whether or not this was one of the mornings Walsh had somehow managed to ruin coffee. He would lend her a shirt, because he’s that kind of guy, and he wouldn’t make any bad jokes, because he isn’t an asshole. 

Casey knows she’s probably still supposed to be fantasising about white dresses and her disapproving father walking her down the aisle. After that it’s all about being swept away to a Caribbean island by George Clooney or whoever the age appropriate actor of choice is. Casey fantasises about a night of no-strings borderline rough sex with her partner, because he may be the only guy she knows who wouldn’t make her regret it in the morning. She’s not totally sure what that says about the men she knows. She does know what it says about Walsh.

And she does get to sleep in the end.

*

_Second squad, this is dispatch. Three things I know for sure. One, the name of the person who finished the coffee and didn’t start a new pot. Two, the terrible punishment that awaits them. And three, even in New York, sometimes people still manage to surprise you._

Walsh is sitting at his desk when she gets in. He’s looking at a file and doesn’t turn around. “Hey Shraeger. Casey?”

Casey doesn’t check her first impulse. She darts a closemouthed kiss to the side of his head, between his temple and his hairline, and punches his shoulder to balance it out. “Hi. I’m here. What’s the rush?”

He looks up then. “What was that for?” His eyes are open, curious, but not in any way perturbed. This is what she loves about him.

This is a secret that she knows and he doesn’t. Casey gives Walsh a truth with the secret hidden way inside it, which is just the sort of thing that he likes. She says, “That was for not being an asshole in my dream.”

“Okay. Am I usually an asshole in your dreams? Because at a certain point, a guy has to wonder why all the women in his life have dreams where he’s a jerk.”

She holds up a hand to stop him. “No. You are not usually an asshole in my dreams.”

“Good.”

“Good. So, do we have something?”

He holds out the folder. “For your delectation, two robberies and one robbery-homicide. In all three cases, _shoes_ were taken. Not pointy designer heels, just so we’re clear. Like work-boots, high-tops, this kind of thing.”

Casey meets his eyes. “I will say one thing about our job. It’s never boring.”

He shakes his head. “No, it is not. Coming?”

“Yep.” She waits for him to stand up and follows him out the door. Already, this is feeling like a better day. Casey doesn’t tell Walsh that, because he can be superstitious about the strangest things, and anyway she likes to keep a few secrets.


End file.
